oh, lookie... i'm back here again.
was a bit pissed just now. i don't even know why. he complains that girls always put incomprehensible stuff on their blog and that maybe there isn't much to be understand bout them. So i said hey i have a blog, but nothing you'll be interested in. And he replied so don't give me the address..
so why am i angry? i don't know - i'm crazy? yes, i am. but tell me something i don't already know.

i think people would understand if they started off with understanding that it can't be understood. geddit?

why do some people just run away when they see me angry? ...i know, i'm not easy to be with when i'm fuming; but it's precisely at that moment - when i can't keep it in - that i need someone to tell me that it's not criminally wrong to be angry. oh wat the hell...

anyway, it's funny - what i feel for andrew. or rather, what i don't feel for him.
(yes, yes, as i write this, i hear the laments of my peeps - those who have, unfortunately, had to sit through conversations where i mention this name 101 times.)
contrary to what a lot of people may think, I’m not in love with him. I think I’m in love with loving him. Do I make sense?
I wrote this poem a few days ago. (i never want andrew to see this poem; don't want him to hurt, even if he's an expert in inflicting pain.)
The feelings come back every now and then. I try not to entertain them…

The memory pangs strike again.
But the pleasure, so outmeasures the pain.
Recall of it brings back the agony.
But draws the yearning in me.
To feel you holding me, to feel your lips on mine.
To feel the tingle down my spine.
The swirl of love and hurt divine.
I want the pain if pain’s the price.
I’d pay with my love for this vice.
Don’t miss you as much as the loving you gave.
Since you left, that’s all I’ve craved.
I feel like a sinner, so brazenly stating
Her sentiment of restricted rating.
But my honesty’s a consolation.
So forgive the candid intention.

Copyright of Joaquin.